Where Shall We End?
by shieldedtoad
Summary: Once the Beast was destroyed, everything was supposed to go back to normal. But something went wrong, and Greg, Wirt, and human!Beatrice find themselves mistakenly dumped in a forest in Oregon. In the future. Begins pre- Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons.
1. Chapter 1

Wirt lurched upright and coughed. He shuddered with every motion as water burst from his nose and mouth. The forest was warm, the sun almost hostile on his back, in stark contrast with the cold he had endured moments before. He gripped the leaves below him and pulled forward onto his hands and knees, trying to get those last drops of water out of his throat. Water dribbled down his chin, meeting the thirsty earth and disappearing. He didn't have time to catch his breath before he remembered his brother.

"Greg!" he cried. He looked around frantically, finally noticing his surroundings. The forest? Still?

"Wirt Wirt!" Greg came hobbling out from the foliage, arms raised in celebration. His frog peeked out of his front pocket. "You did it! You stopped the Beast! I'm not a tree!" He jumped into Wirt's arms.

Wirt hugged Greg to his chest. His knees suddenly felt weak, and he sank to the ground. Greg was still warm, his skin unmarked by the adlewood tendrils. He lifted his face so he could see him. How were his eyes still so bright? Wirt shook his head.

"Greg, I'm sorry."

"Don't get all sappy _now!_ " a familiar voice crowed from behind. Wirt turned to see a girl brushing leaves off her periwinkle dress. Her violently red hair was twisted out of her face. Wirt blinked.

"Beatrice? You're-"

"A pretty lady!" Greg finished for Wirt, scrambling out of his lap.

"Eww, don't say that!" she wrinkled her nose over a smile. Then she snatched Greg into her arms and spun in a wild, joyful circle. "You made it, little frog man!"

"Did you see Wirt? He was great!" Greg wiggled to face his brother. Wirt was getting shakily to his feet. "He helped me catch Jason Funderberker, he fell on a gorilla, and now he smashed the Beast!" Greg stomped the leaves and giggled.

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, really, the woodsman stopped the beast. I just, you know,"

"Oh shut up," Beatrice interjected. Right, Beatrice. Who was now standing with her _arms_ folded and her _mouth_ twisted into a smirk. The smirk slowly spread into a full-fledged grin and it was Wirt's turn to spin. She ran forward and he grabbed her incoming hands and leaned into a blur of green and yellow and flying red hair. The only sounds in that moment were the leaves rustling and three voices free with laughter. Until Wirt slipped on the leaves and they all fell down. Greg had somehow popped into the middle of their spin, so he ended up sprawled over Wirt's legs. He stood up first.

"Where are we, anyways? This doesn't feel cold enough for Halloween." He put his hands on his hips and studied the trees above. Wirt and Beatrice followed his gaze.

"I don't know," Wirt admitted. He slowly rose. "This doesn't make any sense, we're supposed to go home, right? The Beast is gone, we- and why are you even here, Beatrice? You're from like, a totally different time, right?"

"I don't remember anyone wearing teapots on their heads in my time, so you may be right." She was cautious in her snark, sensing Wirt's onset of panic.

"We have to, we, we have to-"

"Wirt, breathe. We'll figure this all out. At least it's bright and warm now. It was hard to fly in the snow." She remembered her legs and snorted at herself.

"That's right!" Greg added. "Jason Funderberker can lead the way!" He set his frog on the ground. "Onward!" he called, and the frog indeed hopped forward.

Beatrice followed Greg and Wirt fell in step beside her.

"Let's just figure out what year it is." Beatrice suggested. "And where we are. Then, we can find a way home."

Wirt pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. "Okay, yeah, okay." His eyes were locked on Greg, who was marching along, still cheerful as ever. Wirt kept checking for marks from the Adlewood, some kind of symptom of frostbite, any sign of injury, but Greg was dauntless.

He looked at Beatrice. His voice was quiet. "How is he okay after all that?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes down. "Little ones are supposed to be durable."

"Why do you get to drive?" Dipper huffed, shifting the bundle of signs in his arms. The "signs" were actually just pieces of firewood nailed to popsicle sticks from the Mystery Shack's garbage can. They were very splintering and very sticky. Phrases like "Beware!" and "Death Awaits!" were splattered on the wood, half in red paint and half in glitter glue. Mabel and Stan had collaborated on these.

"Because I'm getting my license a whole 5 minutes earlier than you. I gotta practice." Mabel stopped the golf cart abruptly, sending Dipper and the signs lurching forward. "Put one right there!" she pointed to the side of the road.

Dipper gathered the signs and got out of the cart, laughing.

"Please," He stuck a sign reading _TURN BACK!_ into the dirt. "I've got superior hand-eye coordination. How's that?"

"Hmm," Mabel considered the sign regally from her throne of the driver's seat. "A little to the left."

Dipper groaned, unearthed the sign, and placed it again. "There?"

"A little to the right?"

He kicked it in the proper direction.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

Dipper adjusted his hat and rushed back to the cart. Just as he was about to get in, it jumped forward.

"Mabel! Quit it!"

"Someone with superior hand-eye coordination would have anticipated such a move!"

Dipper glared and tried to jump in the golf cart again.

"Ha! You missed again! I'm too quick!" Mabel made racecar noises and the cart spun a tight circle around Dipper, sending a cloud of dust his way.

"Mabel! Quit it!" he coughed

The golf cart was still and Dipper got in. He pulled the bill of his hat down to cover his forehead better.

"Aww, come on, stupid, don't be such a party pooper. Are you having growing pains again?"

He gave a noncommittal grunt and shifted positions to face away from his sister.

They drove in silence for a moment. The forest would seem peaceful if they didn't already know too much about it. A drive through the forest seemed more like a journey out to sea now. Peace on the surface, but unknowable turmoil beneath.

"You know the real reason Stan sent us out here, right?" Dipper broke in. Mabel adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. The cart slowed down just a touch.

"Yeah."

"What do you think they're talking about?"

There was a pause. Dipper watched the trees fly by.

"They're probably realizing how dumb they're being and being best friends again," Mabel decided. She sat up straighter and smiled at the road, noticeably pressing the gas pedal harder.

Dipper could have corrected her, but he didn't. There was no way Stan and Ford had time for familial stuff with the portal in it's condition. He itched to leave the sign posting to Mabel and haul back to the Mystery shack, but his protective nature got the better of him. The forest felt electric today. Waiting to give a shock.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jason Funderberker found the road!" Greg announced. The frog croaked affirmatively. Greg scooped him up and plopped him back in the pocket of his pants. "He's a great scout! We should take him on a hunting trip."

Wirt shielded his eyes as he came out from under the forest's canopy. The air hummed with heat without the trees there to interrupt it. The road was a stripe of yellow dust winding out of sight in both directions, lined with wild lupine. Greg was already stuffing the flowers under his teapot.

Wirt turned to Beatrice. "We have roads kinda like this. Do you?"

"Yeah, but the type of road isn't a great indicator of the time. I don't think."

"Right." He stooped to have a closer look. Tire marks were carved into the dust. "Aha! Do you have cars?"

"Cars? I mean I've heard of them, but," she bent to look, too. "I don't know, Wirt. Let's just follow it until we find somebody."

"Okay, but which way?" He looked right, then left. She looked left, then right. Forest, forest, forest, forest.

"I hate this," Beatrice groaned. "I never want to see another tree again."

"Wait, do you hear that?" Wirt froze. It sounded a little like a motor. "I think someone's coming."

"We're walking." Beatrice announced, already headed towards the sound.

"Greg!" Wirt called. Greg was trying to balance a twig vertically on Jason Funderberker's back.

"Hm?"

"Let's go."

Greg grinned. "Okay!" He stuck the frog under his arm and rushed to grab Wirt's hand.

 _That's new_ Wirt noted. Greg was humming a little tune under his breath. It was just like his "Adelaide Parade" song, but no doubt with different lyrics now.

"827 bottles o' Pitt on the wall! 827 bottles o' Pitt! You take one down, pass it around, 826 bottles of Pitt on the wall! Dipper solo!" Mabel sang in Dipper's direction.

Dipper smiled and sang

"826 bottles o' Pitt on the wall! 826 bottles o'," Suddenly, something appeared on the road ahead. "Mabel!"

"That's not how it goes!"

"No, stop!" his arm shot out in front of her and she slammed on the brakes, sending a cloud of dirt and a chorus of screams up in front of them.

When the dust had settled, there stood 3 figures. Dipper's glance fell on the freckled girl closest to them, who coughed, brushing dirt off of her dress. Then he looked at the thin boy a couple yards behind her. He was wearing a pointy red hat and a blue cape. His arm blocked a little kid behind him. He was peering out from behind his cape, and appeared to be wearing a teapot on his head.

After rubbing the dirt from her eyes and staring for a minute, Mabel threw her arms up in frustration.

"Well if the gnomes had looked like THAT then I wouldn't have had a problem-"

Dipper smacked a hand over her mouth.

"Who are you?" he demanded, eyeing each suspiciously.

The girl in front gave an abrupt curtsy. "I am Beatrice. These kids and I got a little turned around in the forest there,"

"And we don't know where or when we are?" the skinny boy interrupted. "I'm Wirt, by the way. And this is Greg."

"And this is Jason Funderberker!" Teapot chimed in, holding a frog above his head.

Mabel gasped and climbed out of the golf cart, arms outstretched toward the frog.

"Ohmygosh he's so handsome!" she squealed. "And I love your teapot! I happen to dabble in kitchen accessories myself." She pulled back her hair to reveal forks hanging from her ears.

"Mabel, be careful!" Dipper called, running to meet her, journal in tow.

"Oh yeah," Beatrice remarked. She dropped her attempt of putting up a sweet front. "Teapots can be very dangerous." Mabel giggled.

"It's not a teapot-" Greg started to explain.

Dipper set his jaw. "Look, we know what this town is all about, and if something's weird, it probably _is_ dangerous," he said. He pulled Mabel away and started thumbing through his journal. "Not to worry, though! I'll know who all of you are shortly."

Wirt stepped forward, craning his neck to get a look at the journal. When Dipper frowned and stepped back to obstruct his view, Wirt turned to the girl. He noted the stars in her eyes and felt his face go hot. He looked to Beatrice for guidance, but she shooed him aggressively towards her.

"Um, what exactly is 'this town'?" he stooped down to her eye level and lowered his voice.

"This is Gravity Falls! But what _you_ need to know is that my name is Mabel."

Dipper let out some kind of hiss and stomped Mabel's foot. "Ow! Dipper!" Mabel shoved him away.

Wirt turned to Beatrice and mouthed "Gravity Falls?" She shrugged.

"And, what year will it be on January first?"

"Twenty-f-!" Dipper stomped her foot again. "Ow! Dude, stomp on someone your own size!"

"Ohhhhh kay that's the future. This is the future." Wirt whipped around to face Beatrice and Greg, eyes wide. Beatrice's face was going pale while Greg's lit up.

"The future?" he beamed "Do you have a device that can make frogs talk? Jason Funderberker has loads of jokes to tell me. He's a really good singer, but-"

"Nothing!" Dipper yelled, slamming his journal shut. "Maybe there's something in the other two."

"Dipper, I think they're from the past."

Dipper glared at each of them in turn. He grabbed Wirt by the middle of his shirt (as high as he could reach), and pulled down.

"What year were you born?" he demanded.

"Woah! Uhhh. 1973." Wirt stammered. Beatrice took a protective step forward.

"Look, buddy, you don't need to know anything more about us." Beatrice pulled Wirt backwards, out of Dipper's reach. "We've got all the information we need, so we'll just be on our way."

"Yeah!" Greg pushed his teapot back on his head in an attempt to look more dignified and marched in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Mabel cried. "We have a portal thingy! Dipper," she jumped in front of him. "We can help them!"

The trio was already heading back to the forest. Wirt and Beatrice were speaking earnestly, out of the twin's earshot.

"Mabel, we've got enough on our plate as it is. There's no sense in bringing a whole other mess back home!" He turned back toward the golf cart. "And besides, the portal is like, super dangerous. And it's inter-dimensional! That's space, not time. Probably."

Mabel's head whipped back and forth between the trio- who were now reaching the forest's edge- and Dipper.

"Ford would be proud of you!" she blurted. Dipper stopped in his tracks.

"How so?" he inquired over his shoulder.

"Well," Mabel clasped her hands behind her back and took a step towards him. "He spent his whole life writing about crazy weird happenstances," she shrugged and pursed her lips. "And now here's something he hasn't even seen before. Could be fun…."

Dipper whimpered at the thought of it.

"Hey guys!" he called, a little louder than intended. Wirt and Beatrice looked up from a frantic discussion at the edge of the forest. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "We ah, might be able to help you. Or, know someone who can? Maybe?"

"Hooray!" Greg cheered and ran panting towards the golf cart. "Can I ride on the back? I've always wanted to see stuff get further away instead of closer!"

"Greg, wait." Wirt cautioned. He shot a distrustful glance towards Dipper and huddled in to talk with Beatrice.

"How do we know they really want to help us?"

"We don't, Wirt, but do we have any other options? It's this or wander aimlessly through the forest, and I think we've had enough of that."

Wirt looked back at Greg, who had pulled a flower from his teapot and stuck it in Mabel's hair.

"I guess you're right, but if anything seems shady, you gotta tell me."

"Duh."

Wirt and Beatrice put on faces of gratitude and approached the golf cart.

"Let's ah, roll," Wirt said tensely. "Come on, Greg, I'll sit on the back with you."

"Dipper, you drive!" Mabel squealed and rushed to the back of the cart.

Dipper regarded Beatrice with embarrassment.

"I think she likes him," Beatrice commented, climbing in the passenger seat.

"Oh, yeah, well that's Mabel. She's got a crush on anything even slightly resembling a boy." Dipper started the golf cart and turned it around. "You mean the tall one, right?"

Beatrice paused.

"Yes," she said. "I do mean the one who isn't actually a toddler."

"Right, right," Dipper tried to laugh. "So um, how old did you say you were?"

"If this is 20 something, then I must be about… 140? Give or take a decade or two."

Dipper clutched the steering wheel tighter in response. "I'm taking a ghost home," he whispered to himself. "I'm taking three ghosts home."


	3. Chapter 3

"So anyways, now he's named Jason Funderberker because Wirt has really good frog-naming skills," Greg was explaining in the backseat.

It was sunset, but the trees cast orphan blue shadows onto the road.

"Oh my gosh, what a coincidence! I have really good pig naming skills!" Mabel gushed. She propped her chin on her hand and batted her eyelashes at Wirt. "And matchmaking skills."

Wirt shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Good _what?_ "

"Me too!" Greg interrupted. "We should play Memory! I only lost two cards, so now we pretend the bird and the lumberjack match. In loss, they found each other," Greg said with a sigh.

Wirt smirked. "That's almost poetry," he remarked, nudging Greg with his elbow.

"Not like yours!" Greg insisted, nudging him back. He turned to Mabel. "Wirt does real poetry. He says it aloud at night and it helps me go to sleep."

Wirt blushed "Wait, you can hear me-"

Mabel gasped "You write _poetry?_ That's so," her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper " _deep."_

Wirt took off his hat and scratched the back of his head, "Well, I mean, I don't know if it's _deep,_ I tend to just piggyback off the styles of Whitman, Dickenson, other romantic era poets," his lip tugged to a humble corner of his face.

"Romantic poets," Mabel parroted. Her pupils were dilating at an alarming rate.

Wirt forced a breathy chuckle and flailed an arm in Beatrice's direction behind him.

"Can you ask how much longer?" he hissed.

"What? No way, this kid thinks I'm a ghost or something. You ask!"

"No, you!"

"How much longer?" Greg blurted. "Wirt and Beatrice want to know, but they're shy."

Beatrice and Wirt winced in unison.

"Aww!" Mabel gushed and patted Dipper on the shoulder. "He's shy around me."

"Just a couple more minutes," Dipper said. Wirt and Beatrice both twisted around in their seats to talk. Mabel turned and smacked the top of Dipper's hat like a drum.

"Dude! I think this Wirt guy likes me!" she squealed.

"Mabel, first of all, keep your voice down. Second, we have no idea who this guy is! He said he was born in the seventies. Grunkle Stan would have been like 10 when he was born. Can you just think about that for a minute? Plus, you know, the possibility that he's some kind of evil creature."

"Oh, come on Dipper. He writes poetry! Besides, you have a crush on an older lady," Mabel teased, poking Dipper on either side of the face. She made kissy noises at him.

"Sure, yeah, compare this to Wendy. The definite human Wendy. Right, yeah, totally the same thing," he droned through Mabel's sound effects.

"Beatrice," Wirt hissed. "This is getting super weird, what do I do? This girl is like, two feet tall."

"You're not seriously worried about that right now," Beatrice chided. "If she likes you, better for us! Milk it! Maybe she can help us get home."

"What do you mean 'milk it'!? She's like 10! I have zero interest in 'milking it'." Wirt turned back around and folded his arms.

"Fine, throw a tantrum, but it's not gonna get Greg home any quicker."

Wirt blinked. He looked sideways at Greg, sat watching the trees disappear behind them. His eyelids were starting to droop under the weight of the night they had had. He struggled to stay awake, but his head nodded in spite of him. Wirt took the teapot off Greg's head and pulled him close to lean on his chest. Greg willingly shifted his weight onto Wirt and nuzzled his head into a comfortable spot on his chest. Wirt found himself placing a hand on Greg's forehead to feel his temperature. He was a little cold, even under the hot sun.

"Maybe I won't need to do anything," Wirt suggested. "Maybe we'll figure this out real quick and it'll all blow over."

 **Hi, readers! I decided I should probably acknowledge myself as a person in here.**

 **So chapter 3 is a little shorter than the others, but I promise it's gonna get interesting pretty soon here.**

 **And if the Mabel and Wirt thing is uncomfortable,** ** _good._**

 **Tell me what you think and what you hope to see! I LOVE hearing from you guys!**

 **Thanks!**


	4. Author's Note

Hey guys!

This is not a real chapter, but I need to explain myself real quick.

I can't thank you enough for all the reviews and just the fact that there are people who come and look at this sometimes even though I haven't touched it in forever! You all rock and whenever I need some positive attention I just come reread your reviews! lol thats embarassing. anyway...

When I started to write this, I made a whole big plan that was centered around staying true to canon, just adding the otgw gang into the existing Gravity Falls plotline. Unfortunately, I put a little too much trust in my predicting skills, and the Gravity Falls finale totally toppled some major elements of the plot. What I had originally planned just sounds weak in comparison to what happened, so I'm not going to publish it.

Instead, I'm gonna do some reworking and figure out a stronger way to proceed with the story. Just letting you guys know that I haven't forgotten about this at all. In fact, I spend many a waking hour trying to figure out how to proceed!

Thank you for your patience, and I'll see you in the next update!

shieldedtoad


	5. Chapter 4

"Dipper! What if he writes me a poem? Oh, that would be so romantic!" Mabel mused. She was half draped over Dipper's shoulders.

"Boo, gross. Can you stop? Please? I'm trying to drive." Dipper tried to shrug her off. The trees parted suddenly, and a dusty clearing opened ahead of them. The Mystery Shack sat sleepily in the clearing's center.

"We're here!" Mabel cheered.

Dipper pulled the golf cart up to the side of the Shack and turned it off. He turned to Wirt and Beatrice. His face was darkened by his cap.

"You guys should probably wait here."

"You don't wanna bring ghosts in the house?" Beatrice teased with a smirk.

"No, it's not," Dipper blushed. "It's not that. Things are just kinda… tense right now." He gave a sudden shake of the head. "Why am I even explaining this, just wait here!"

Dipper climbed out of the golf cart and disappeared around the corner.

"Don't go anywhere!" Mabel sang at Wirt as she followed Dipper.

Wirt gave Beatrice an exasperated look. She was grinning.

"You know, maybe we could just stay in this time period for a while. You make funny faces when you're flustered," she teased. "But take that hat off. "

Wirt obliged, but tossed the hat at Beatrice. He looked down at Greg, who was now sound asleep. Jason Funderberker had crawled out of his pants and was crouched absently on the seat.

The Mystery Shack was closed for the day, so Dipper and Mabel walked around to the side entrance.

"I think you have a thing for redheads," Mabel teased.

"No, unlike my crazy sister, I do not develop crushes within seconds. Or on people who should be dead."

"You can't deny the color in your cheeks!" she sang. Mabel trotted ahead of Dipper and flung the door open.

"I blush under stress!" Dipper called after her.

"Grunkle Stan! We're home!" Mabel's voice echoed down the hall and met no response. Her shoulders dropped just a bit. Dipper caught up to her and tugged at her sleeve.

"Mabel, we need to use some level of tact here. Grunkle Stan's really touchy right now."

Mabel frowned. "Dipper, you know as well as I do that Stan is the kind of guy who pretends everything's fine! I mean jeez, he totally pretended his brother hadn't been sucked into an alternate universe before his very eyes, and he kept it going for thirty years! Grunkle Stan needs some good-old-fashioned, happy-times Mabel love. Not tip-toey Dipper love."

Mabel lifted her chin and marched on.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel called, even louder, through the doorway.

Stan was snoring on the couch, head lolling back over the headrest.

Mabel grinned and took a running leap onto his lap, knees first and squealing. Stan woke with a cry of pain to clutch at his stomach, which had taken almost the full force of Mabel's jump.

"Hey there, pumpkin," Stan winced through his teeth. "Next time you wanna wake me up, just stab me in the foot or light me on fire like a good girl."

"Grunkle Stan, you don't need to be lit on fire 'cuz you're already smokin'!" Mabel waved finger guns at him and gave a mouth-open smile.

"Heh," Stan allowed, before quirking an eyebrow "What are you sucking up for?"

"Nothing!" Mabel insisted, crawling off of Stan's lap to sit beside him. Dipper shuffled over and hopped up beside Mabel. He had never been one to help break the ice. He was more of a wait-until-the-ice-is-broken-and-then-cautiously-dip-your-toes-in-the-water kind of kid. "Just wanted to make an old guy smile!" Mabel booped Stan's face with a finger.

Stan smirked, and then eyed Dipper.

"You're looking more high-strung than usual," he remarked.

Dipper took a deep breath, struggling to plan his next lines carefully.

"Yeah, it's just there's a golf-cart full of time-traveling children outside and we were wondering if they could stay at the shack until we figure out how to get them home." He paused before adding "I know it's weird right now with your brother and everything, so if that's too stressful I understand."

Stan's face dropped, and so did Mabel's, but for clearly different reasons.

"Too stressful?" Stan growled.

"Tip-toer," Mabel accused.

Dipper felt himself actually shrinking into his seat as Stan stood up.

"You think I wouldn't let kids stay here because it's too stressful!? Sweet Prince of Shiba, I already took you two clowns in, while running a full time business, and building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement! Nothing's too stressful for Stan Pines!" Stan jerked a pompous thumb at himself.

Dipper brightened.

"Oh! So you'll take the kids in?"

"No!" Stan snapped.

"No!?" Mabel and Dipper repeated in unison.

"My customers come here for fake legends and cheap merchandise. I don't want any time anomaly ghost kids scaring their little heads away!" Stan crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Dipper. Mabel hopped in to block his view.

"Come on Grunkle Stan," she began, but before she could finish, a sudden thudding sound came from the Mystery Shack public room. Then came the mechanic hiss of the vending machine sliding open, and Stanford appeared in the doorway, a gun in one hand and a squid-thing in the other.

"Did somebody say 'time anomaly ghost kids'?"

Stan's face went cold. Mabel winced with her eyes, but smiled with her mouth. Dipper beamed.

"Hey Ford," they all said, both together and on their own.

 ***studio audience whoops and hollers***

 **The Grunks are in!**

 **So I just edited the description of this thing to give you an idea of the timeline and what is/ isn't canon at this point. If you notice anything that needs work in my writing, pretty please speak up! Constructive criticism is the biggest compliment in my mind.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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